Some well mannered Gardeners use a trowel to dabble around in a sometimes useful manner. A polite instrument, that's good enough to undo a gentler soil. An ergonomic handle for the weak wrist. And that shine from regular use that sometimes offers a glint from the sun which grants temporary blindness to those of us who wear a hat and gloves when moving beyond shade.
Other Gardeners prefer a less polite instrument. It has the wooden handle, that gives it an artisan flair. It has that sort of long blade that cries out to red bandana, shirtless-ness and rampage through villages. And it has a very sharp point that could neatly slice a carotid artery should ever the need arise, and which quite recently pierced a carefully buried hose pipe.